Living with Snakes
by DaughterofWinter
Summary: One of the most influential families in the magical world has their sights set on one Harry Potter. How can he defeat the dark side when there are death eaters right outside his door? Family, AU
1. The Story Begins

**Hello Everyone =)**

 **I decided to try my hand at an adoption type story. AU of course, the story starts the summer after Harry's third year. I'm going to try to update at least the first two chapters on the same day and hopefully the third will quickly follow.**

 **I own nothing. It's sad, isn't it? I'm sure if you owned it you would share with me 3**

Rain puddles and splattered mud made the unattractive street even less appealing. The paint on the backside of buildings had peeled, and the naked wood was dark with moisture. Gray-brown specks decorated the clothing of one Harry Potter, but then he was never very fashion conscious. He trudged along the path, hopping around most of the large puddles and past the back entrance to the laundry mat. Two of the workers were having a smoke break- just cigarettes, probably. They didn't acknowledge him.

Harry was fine with that. After all, there was no reason he should draw attention- just a lone boy wandering the poorer side of Little Whinging in an oversized tee shirt and muddy tennis shoes. Said boy continued his short journey to the very last doorway in the alley. The door- a metal, creaky thing painted pale blue nearly a decade ago- opened to reveal a teenager not much older than Harry himself.

The boy was named Carver and, for an extra fee, was willing to sell Harry soda drinks out back since he was banned from the store. Harry's cheeks had burned with shame when the owner had shrieked at him that he was a dirty ruffian, and yes she knew the way he treated his aunt and she was having none of it in her store. He had run without knowing where he was going and found himself once again in the back garden of the Dursley's home with tears running down his face. He had cried often enough before- in fact he wondered if he cried too much for a boy- but these tears were hot as if he were boiling inside and when he realized that he couldn't go in the house without his family seeing his blotchy face, he had turned right around. On his way back to the store he had met Carver and struck a deal, four pounds for one Andrew Shletz cherry-lemon soda. Carver kept the change.

That had been at the beginning of summer, but Harry had been checking the vending machines for loose change and pocketing coins from the ground for weeks to save up and besides, it was his birthday. Carver happily traded the overpriced beverage for the handful of crumpled cash and ducked back into the store without so much as a "how-do-you-do?" Regardless, the birthday boy was deeply pleased that his treat was icy cold- probably delivered just a few hours ago.

He made his way to the playground on Magnolia road. An hour under the shade of a large oak tree would be heaven on such a blistering day. Harry could already tell that the wet marks left by mud splatter on his clothes were hardening; the stains would be nearly impossible to remove. Not that it mattered; Harry had been spending less and less time at the Dursley's and so avoided any remarks from them. They, for the most part, ignored him and prayed that his mysterious godfather would never make an appearance while he roamed the neighborhood and pretended that Sirius would be coming any minute to take him away.

"That would make a perfect birthday present," Harry brought his soda bottle to his lips as the playground came in sight. He could imagine it easily- he and Sirius would go to all sorts of places, hideaways kept secret by the Order. He had only met Sirius once, but he thought he could picture what his godfather would look like after a few more meals ("You're one to talk, Harry!" as Hermione would say) and a bit more sleep. Whatever the particulars, he was certain that the two of them would be cheerful, make each other laugh. Sirius wrote him of course, but there were some stories that just couldn't be told through a letter, and Harry wanted to hear all of them.

He reached the edge of the park. A few girls in summer dresses danced enthusiastically, if not conventionally, on the benches lining the perimeter while two toddlers squabbled in the dirt, their caretaker drowsing nearby. The largest tree would be at the back right corner… oh. 'Maybe that's why the place is almost empty,' Harry thought to himself. Joseph Kipp had his gang lounging by the picnic tables in the shade. Strange, they didn't usually come out until the sun went down. Harry had taken to hiding when he spotted them walking at night, but he wasn't sure why. Maybe they reminded him of Dudley's friends.

A long whistle caught Harry's attention. His wary green eyes met with Kipp's murky hazel ones and his shoulders stiffened at the older boy's smirk.

"Come 'ere," he gestured lazily, and Harry could think of no way to leave without appearing like a scared five year old, so he hid his grimace and made his way over as nonchalantly as he could. Kipp laughed. "What are you doing walking around, you look hot, mate…" Kipp leaned back on the picnic table like a king on his throne with finger tattoos instead of royal jewels and a collection of rebels with hangovers for a court.

Harry shrugged, glancing at the ragged group of 20 year olds lying half asleep in the heat. "It's summer."

"Yeah, yeah… whatcha got there?" Harry couldn't tell if he was peering at Harry's bottle or if Kipp was just too tired keep his eyes open, but he held up his bottle anyway and answered that is was soda.

"Ah. Course it is," Kipp muttered the last part. One of his buddies chuckled, "Wha'd you expect? The twelve year old's carrying a liquor store with 'im?"

'14,' Harry wanted to answer bitterly but Kipp waved his hand lethargically at both of them, "No, no. The kid's fine. Listen, Harry," he leaned forward just a bit, "anytime you want a drink or somefin', I'll get one for you, yeah?" He grinned at Harry's reluctance to respond, "You can hang around if you want. Where you been sleeping lately? I know- I saw you by the old school building right?"

Harry had gone to the old science building, closed for the summer and for renovations, to find a quiet place to rest and think but he wasn't about to tell Kipp that. "Nope, not me. I, um, I think I have to get back soon-"

"Oh yeah, yeah, I'll let you go in a minute. Wouldn't want to hurt your mate's feelings, would you?" His splayed inked fingers covered his heart dramatically. Harry shied away from the moody glare of the hawkish boy next to Kipp and shook his head no. "I think you might like our little group, Harry. You need anything, you come here. We're that kind of people… help each other out," he stretched his hand out to rest on the back of Harry's neck, forcing the boy closer and demanding his attention. "You're that kind of friend, aren't you, Harry?"

The sharp eyed boy next to him nodded knowingly, "He is definitely that kind of friend."

"Knew it!" Kip celebrated while Harry smiled weakly. "So I'll be seeing you around."

"I-" Harry wasn't sure how to respond. Kipp's hand dropped to the small of Harry's back and he pressed his forehead against the younger boy's.

"Don't disappoint me, Harry," what could have been pleading sounded like an order from Kipp and Harry regretted having ever left the back garden.

As it happens, being at the Dursley residence would not have greatly improved his mood. You see, the Durselys had visitors of the magical sort and they were none too pleased with it either. At least at first.

"And what would the, em, Ministry want with Harry?" Petunia Dursley clasped her bony hands together and laid them on even bonier knees. "Has he done something wrong?" She added hopefully, picturing a lengthy prison sentence and tearful apologies that such a normal family had to put up with an unruly felon for so many years. Dudley, who was hiding upstairs, would be so pleased.

"Oh no," the female one attempted to reassure her. This one's hair was too long for her age and she appeared to have worn her vest over her jacket, both of which clashed with her pink boots. "It's not that, it's just, well…" She turned to her colleague, a middle aged man without Vernon's stately presence who had paired a green bow tied with a yellow shirt.

"A prominent wizarding family has expressed interest in Harry's well being," He explained. Petunia's blood ran cold. What did they mean 'well being'? The boy was fine, as fine as he could be without cooperating with the rest of normal society.

The wizard saw her look of disbelief and was quick to continue: "The family happens to have some legal precedent, but of course you as a blood relative have much more-"

"Wait!" Petunia held up one trembling hand, "You mean there's a couple in the, er, in your world that wants custody of him?" Her eyebrows knotted together, she hardly dared to hope!

"Yes, since you were not technically in the Potters' will. Your relationship with the boy is, of course, weighed very heavily and I'm sure it will override anything they could come up with."

Well that would never do. Petunia wrapped her arms around herself as if to ward off the freakishness surrounding her. "We try. We really do, but I'll tell you the truth. Harry has become… harder to control around here."

"Harry? Harry Potter?" The female's eyes widened in surprise and Petunia knew she had captivated her audience.

"Oh yes," she nodded, "he's hardly ever here. He runs around with those ruffians, homeless I think. Not the type my Dudley plays with. You know, he blew up a dear relative of ours last year."

"Had a bout of accidental magic," the male clarified, but he still seemed concerned. Wasn't Harry a little old for that?

"He was very upset, and I… I'm afraid Vernon and I just aren't equipped to handle a child with m-magic," Petunia nearly choked on the offensive word but managed to get it out and refocused on the struggle of pulling her thin lips into something resembling a sad pout.

"That… that changes things."

 **Author's Note:**

 **A quick google search said that soda is either "soda" or "soda pop" in the London area so I hope that term works for everyone. Thank you so much for reading! Sincere apologies for any mistakes, God bless**


	2. Happy Birthday

**Second Chapter, as promised : ) Hope you enjoy (I still own nothing)**

Harry felt the tension grow as he was escorted down to the Ministry building with an auror on either side. When he first spotted the oddly dressed pair he had been glad for the distraction and took it as a chance to escape Kipp's clutches, but after he got a closer look he realized that instead of wizards on holiday, they were actually ministry employees and meant serious business. He had asked what was wrong, but they insisted that everything was fine, they just wanted to talk.

The older one, a man named Willby, tried to engage him in conversation on the way. "Was that your friend you were talking to?"

"Um, I don't know. He's just someone from the neighborhood."

"I see. How has everything been going at your aunt's house?"

"Same as always, I suppose." As far as Harry knew he hadn't done anything to warrant the Ministry's attention. Maybe they were finally getting around to questioning him about Sirius Black. If that was the case, then Harry had already decided not to tell them a single thing! If they thought he was going to be a good little boy and tell them everything they wanted to know, then they had another thing coming! After all, what could they really do to him? Besides keep him in an interrogation room for hours… he could handle that. They might keep him from going to school… Or call someone to interrogate him, like Snape. Harry's confidence started to waver. Could they use veritaserum on him? If they did, could he resist?

"This way," the aurors indicated that they should continue on towards the lifts but Harry had other ideas.

"I'm not moving until you tell me where we're going."

The two traded helpless glances. The woman, Harry thought she was named Kellington, tried to appease him. "We're bringing you to someone's office. He needs to talk to you."

Harry wasn't fooled. She had only told him what anyone could have guessed. "About?"

"Your living arrangements," Willby admitted.

Living arrangements? "You mean," the boy's eyes took on a suspicious glint, "I might not be going back to the Durselys'?"

"Exactly like that," Kellington told him softly, concerned that the child might start crying in the middle of the hallway. Harry, of course, did nothing of the sort. In fact, he stood up a little straighter and followed the aurors more attentively than he had before. Perhaps if Kellington had thought to look closer, she would have noticed the little gears in his head working furiously on the problem at hand.

None of Harry's friends liked his aunt and uncle. The Weasly matriarch in particular voiced concerns about them regularly (and loudly). It wasn't out of the realm of possibility for them to offer to take Harry in. Wouldn't that be amazing? Spending every holiday at the Burrow, having loads of siblings? Harry had to fight hard to keep a goofy grin off his face. But they couldn't do anything without getting approval from Dumbledore, and he wouldn't let them because of the blood wards. Unless… the blood wards broke. Or maybe they weren't needed anymore. The more Harry thought about it, the more likely it seemed. After all, it was a bit sneaky, two aurors grabbing him with no warning and taking him straight to an unknown office in the Ministry; who else but Dumbledore could orchestrate this?

The aurors and Harry exited the lift at level 6 but instead of continuing on to the bustling hub of the Department for Magical Transportation they took a sharp left toward privet offices. A single knock on the door resulted in a quick, "enter!" and Harry found himself pushed inside a small lavender painted room that housed a desk large enough to be a dining table, several chairs, a magical clock, and a fairly normal looking man in business robes.

The man glanced up. "Is this the boy?" That was when Harry noticed someone else in the room, facing the opposite direction and sitting in a high-backed chair. Someone from the Order? Who in the Order hand blond hair… The man turned around-

Lucius Malfoy.

Harry's throat went dry. How… How could it take such a wrong turn so quickly? He said the first thing that came to his mind, "does Dumbledore know I'm here?"

Malfoy cocked an eyebrow. "I assure you," he said smoothly, "this has nothing to do with your schooling, nor your headmaster."

The pit in Harry's stomach sunk deeper. He turned to the aurors for help, but they were already leaving.

"Please, sit down," the business wizard was shuffling papers at his desk. Harry reluctantly sat in the plush leather chair. There was detailing on the arm rest and he traced it with his fingers, trying to distract himself. There had to be some way out of this. He now saw that a woman, presumably Draco's mother, was sitting next to Malfoy senior, her hands relaxed and her ankles elegantly crossed. She nodded gently, but didn't quite smile.

"So Mr. Malfoy, you claim that since the man named guardian by the Potters in their last will and testimony is, in fact, a convicted murderer that guardianship should pass to his closest living relative, your wife Narcissa Malfoy, nee Black?"

Harry's eyes grew wide. They were trying to replace Sirius, possibly the only man on earth who truly wanted him, with this man and his haughty wife? He had to get word to someone- but how? He couldn't very well shout "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" in a room this size without being found out and silenced.

Lucius, if possible, tilted his nose even further into the air. "Yes, you can see here," he gestured to one of the papers, "that in 1827, Greenwitch vs Brian, Greenwitch was awarded custody through a blood relation to the child in question's godfather."

The man hesitated. "That is true," he answered humbly, "but there is the small matter of his muggle aunt…"

"She doesn't object."

Harry's jaw dropped. He knew he was disliked, intensely disliked even, but he hadn't expected this. Even if she didn't love him, Harry thought perhaps she took care of him out of a sense of duty. He at least thought that she would be unwilling to let him die at the hands of a death eater! Even if she didn't know what a death eater was.

The business wizard- who Harry now realized must be some kind of lawyer or caseworker- seemed delighted. "Well, that makes everything easy!" He pulled out a sheet of paper, longer and better quality than the rest, from the bottom of the pile and presented it to Mr. Malfoy.

"Right here, the child 'Harry James Potter' is legally entrusted to the House of Lord Lucius and Lady Narcissa Malfoy as a ward at the age of thirteen-"

"I'm fourteen," Harry whispered. Everyone stopped in surprise, even Harry hadn't realized that he had regained the ability to speak. "It's my birthday."

"Ah, yes I can see that," the man squinted at yet another sheet of paper. "However, you were born in the early evening, so the Ministry's records won't change until that time. Legally, you are still thirteen." He lowered the page and looked expectantly at Harry. "Happy birthday," he added lamely when the boy didn't reply.

Yeah. Happy Birthday.

Harry stared dumbly as the Malfoys signed their names in large opulent cursive and formally with their wands. What could he say? What could stop a Malfoy from taking what he wanted? Harry didn't look up, although he heard the Malfoys stand.

"A pleasure, as always," the business wizard was shaking their hands now. Traitor. He was supposed to tell them that they couldn't have Harry. Harry was important because if he died then Voldemort would win and everything would be horrible and the Ministry wouldn't hand over The-Boy-Who-Lived to a death eater.

But they did.

 **AN: Thanks for reading; it might be a few more days until I can update, but I'm working on it, God bless!**


	3. Ice Cream

**AN: Welcome to Chapter 3! Despite my best efforts, I am as poor as I was last chapter and still own nothing. Never the less, enjoy the story!**

Harry wanted to resist. Mrs. Malfoy had a deceptively strong grip on his shoulders but Harry was willing to push he luck and bolt if only he could pick a direction. Apparently the pace in the Ministry picked up just after midday because paper airplanes were flying everywhere- over head, under-foot, and without regard for personal boundaries- and the witches and wizards were almost as frantic. The Malfoys charged forward with Harry caught between them, confident that no one would dare stand in their way. Mrs. Malfoy was saying something, but Harry couldn't focus on the words. He needed something to duck behind, some distraction-

"Harry!" A red torpedo launched itself at Harry and took him to the floor.

"Ron!" Relief covered Harry like a wave, and it just kept getting better. "Hermione! How did you get here?"

She offered a hand to help him stand, then pulled him into a hug. "I was already at the Burrow for a visit, Mr. Weasley floo called us-"

Fred and George chose this moment to charge in yelling, "Harry!"

"-he said he talked to an auror named Willby, and to come right away," Hermione finished as Weasley family members continued to flood in.

"Did he?" Mr. Malfoy drawled, contempt dripping from every pore in his body, "I wonder why."

The youngest Weasleys froze, mostly in horror, but there might have been a little hatred mixed in as well.

"Well, Arthur," the blond wizard continued as the Weasley patriarch made his way forward, "I hear you're _very_ anxious to speak with me."

"Yes," Arthur refused to be cowed, not after the way this man had treated his daughter just a year before, "however, we're blocking the way." It was true; the space wasn't designed to hold the entire Weasley brood and the collection of wizards that had stopped to gawk at the scene.

Percy Weasley found this spectacle immensely embarrassing and tried to pull his younger siblings towards the door, "Come on, there's no room for us here. Quickly, get on your way-"

"Oy!" complained Fred, "Mr. Prefect is practicing again. Think he'll try to train us to balance Quaffels on our noses next?"

"About time he made a contribution to Quidditch."

"Too true, George."

But in the end even the twins realized that standing in one a long train of redheads wasn't conducive to communication and they had better find a more comfortable place to talk. Harry couldn't care less about where they were going, he was just thrilled to no longer be alone.

"Rotten luck, Harry," Ron whispered loudly, as Weasleys often do. No matter, his siblings made enough noise to cover it. "Got caught up with the Malfoys, and on your birthday, too!"

"Wasn't my idea," Harry answered, "they sent aurors to bring me in, who didn't even let me grab my stuff. Can they do that?"

"Apparently," Ron shrugged, but his expression was troubled.

"Oh _no_!" gasped Hermione, "Your presents! We owled them this morning; they must still be at your aunt's."

"I don't think _that's_ what he's worried about, Hermione," Ron shook his head mournfully.

"I know," Hermione intertwined her hand with Harry's, "I'm sure that we can fix this though. You'll see." They stepped into the lift and Harry fought to squeeze into a tight corner, trying not to be overheard by the Malfoys who were now only feet away.

"What did they say, exactly?" Ron pressed him, and Harry answered as quietly as he could manage, "They said that since Sirius can't take care of me, Mrs. Malfoy gets custody. They're related-"

"No, that's impossible! You can't inherit godparent-hood," Hermione leaned in even closer, until the trio's faces were inches from each other.

"Well the Ministry wizard seemed to think differently," Harry's face scrunched up with worry. The lift opened to the eighth floor and the little company spilled out into the atrium. It was a much more welcoming place than the offices, but just as busy. On a day with fewer pressing issues Hermione would have admired the peacock blue ceiling and Harry would have marveled at the alcoves housing ancient stone statues of fabled wizarding heroes. They allowed themselves to be led to Ministry Munchies, where they quickly claimed the surrounding benches and continued their discussion.

"That's not the type of thing that's easily undone," Ron seemed unsettled, "unless they didn't sign anything. Did they sign anything?"

"Yes," Harry sighed, "and with their wands, too."

"Bloody hell."

The twins popped their heads in-

"Ice cream orders-"

"we'll happily eat whatever you order!"

Harry and Ron both settled on pumpkin ice cream with chocolate sprinkles, Hermione chose chocolate, and no one could decipher what the twins had done to their custom concoctions. A quick glance told Harry that the Malfoy couple had in fact accepted small bowls of ice cream, but didn't seem to be too intent on eating it. Instead they appeared to be having a tense conversation with Mr. Weasley.

"So, what can we do?" Harry asked after he had gotten a chance to lick most of the sprinkles off and his friends had explained the situation to the rest of the Weasleys.

"Honestly mate, I don't know that there's a lot we _can_ do," said Fred.

"We can't just leave him there," Hermione argued.

"No we certainly can _not_!" huffed Mrs. Weasley. She pulled him in a hug so tight Harry wondered if she meant to stuff him down her sweater- like a kangaroo hiding her joey- and hop away with him. Fred took the opportunity to save, and then eat, the rest of Harry's ice cream cone.

"They have the upper hand, legally," George looked disappointed that he was forced to be the voice of reason.

"That makes no sense! No one even asked Harry what he wanted," Hermione found it difficult to accept that the rules and structures put in power over her had failed.

"Don't think they have to," pondered Ron.

"It's likely that they're appealing to old Pureblood rules and traditions," Molly Weasley admitted.

"Which might not be a bad thing," Fred offered.

"Why?" Harry and Hermione chorused, both equally doubtful.

"A traditionalist Pureblood would take good care of his ward," Fred explained.

"At least in theory," George added.

"If something goes wrong, it could hurt the man's reputation-"

"So basically-"

The two boys grinned, "give him hell."

Their mother was having none of it. "Have you two taken a leave of your senses? Do you have any idea what could happen to poor Harry-"

"Ickle Harrykins!"

"Poor baby!"

"Shush! Leave the boy alone!" Molly swatted at the twins. "His day has been difficult enough without you two making it worse!"

Molly's scolding reached the ears of the two Malfoys and the boys' father, none of whom were particularly impressed.

"I think we're done here," Lucius stood, walking stick in hand, and whirled toward his new ward and strode toward him with all the elegance of a man of his station, his wife a silent yet formidable presence beside him.

"Harry." The word sounded strange, like it didn't fit in his mouth. The Weasley parents exchanged expressions unreadable to anyone but themselves. Molly's face turned dour and pale. Harry sent one last pleading glance at her but she couldn't bring herself to return it, so Harry stood to follow. For once the Weasley children were silent as they watched their friend being led away.

Severus' good humor was a thin glass dangerously close to breaking over hot coals. Dumbledore might have seen this if he were not glaring at his own roaring fireplace, but then he wasn't in the mood to cater to his former student's delicate temper. "You are quite certain of all of this?"

"Indeed. As certain as I was the first… three, times I told you."

Dumbledore spun with surprising agility for his age, "I am deadly serious, Severus. If you have neglected that boy in favor of your friend, to get one last stab at a deceased schoolboy rivalry-!"

"How _dare_ you!" Severus spat venomously. He _knew_ that this would happen! Just because he had been watching the Potter boy when the aurors came to take him away- what had Albus expected him to do? Explode in a fiery display of spells and proclaim that they had no right to Dumbledore's Golden Child? He almost snorted. Probably.

"I had no say in the happenings of this afternoon," his tone was colder than ice. "And so it seems," he sneered, "neither did you."

For many moments, the only sound was the crackle and hiss of the fire eating away at dry firewood. Even Fawkes and the wind were motionless.

Albus broke the silence with a badly faked conversational tone, "So it seems."

Not even the simplest of Hufflepuffs would be convinced, but Severus was too fed up to care. "I'll be going then."

"Do," the headmaster replied. And so he did.

 **AN: thanks for reading! I'm thrilled with all the views this story has gotten, God Bless you all**


	4. The Manor

**Yikes this is a lot later than I expected to update. I promise I actually do have a plan for this story and I did start writing this chapter right away, just in the middle I ran into non-fanfic related issues. I cannot describe the drama to you guys, but I will say that it has reminded me of a specific Dr Phil episode several times. I own nothing! (isn't that a depressing statement? Authors who include it deserve chocolate, I think)**

Harry decided that no matter how old in feeble he would become in his old age, he would never use a walking stick. Lucius' was polished and elegantly carved, clearly well cared for, and he wielded it as an extension of his very being. It tapped the ground quietly in rhythm with it's master's steps and served as an unspoken reminder of power.

"This is a good place to Apparate." Mrs. Malfoy commented, still gripping Harry's arm tightly.

"Will you take him, or shall I?" Lucius asked.

"I might as well," she answered, pulling Harry closer, "it may help if you hold your breath."

Harry had heard about Apperation before. The seventh years had worried very loudly in the Common Room over their test results every year he had a attended Hogworts, and of course he had seen Dobby pop in and out several times, but that hadn't prepared him for such a horrifying sensation. His body was crushed and forced through a pipe much too small for him, the pressure built so quickly he thought his brain would burst from his head.

Mrs Malfoy's tight grip turned out to be a good thing, as it was the only thing that kept him from falling over when they landed. After his breathing slowed and the dizziness subsided, Harry was able to see that they had arrived in a living room with a fireplace expansive enough for Hagrid could fit in and cabinets with darkened glass lining the walls. He didn't want to imagine what hid behind them. A small elf was squeaking happily, presumably in greeting, although when she spotted Harry she whispered to herself as if she had witnessed something scandalous. Lucius noticed as well.

"Don't worry," he drawled, "I've already informed the house elves that they may disregard any sock you might hand them."

Harry had the distinct sense that he was being accused of plotting something, but seeing as he had actually forgotten that such a rich family would have had more than one elf, he couldn't form a response fast enough.

After making sure Harry could stand up on his own and wasn't about to vomit on her new French rug, Mrs. Malfoy excused herself and left to inform Draco that they had returned.

Lucius appeared comfortable with the role of gracious, if not warm, host. "Welcome to Malfoy Manor. I suppose I'll give you a quick tour, just to a few of the rooms you'll visit most often. It wouldn't be wise to explore beyond those on your own… you never know just what you might stumble upon." Harry shivered, picturing the tortured remains of past guests buried under dark arts books.

"The family mostly stays on this side of the house," Lucius continued at a brisk pace, "the kitchens are downstairs and to your right-" Harry looked down a gleaming but simple staircase and caught a glimpse of a pale robin egg blue hallway lined with silver frames, "-the family dining room is this way," Lucius continued on, gesturing to a medium sized room with a single slab of marble for flooring and a large table made from thick gray wood. Harry noted that the dining room corridor also led to one of the manor's back entrances.

Lucius turned left near the end of the hallway and started to climb the stairs without giving his new ward a single glance. "Many of the rooms nearby are salons or studies, of course the library's first floor isn't far away." How many floors did their library have? Harry hurried to keep up, unsure how Lucius managed to move so quickly and still appear effortless. He was starting to suspect magic was at work, although he couldn't think of any spells capable of it.

His own deer-in-the-headlights expression was pointed out to Harry quite clearly by the disapproving clucks and murmurs of the portraits. He glared at one who started sputtering in rage and started to call him a worthless-

"Ignore Octavia de Le Mire," Harry's guide interrupted, "she doesn't like children. Or much else."

Of course, this enraged her further and, to the delight of the portraits around her, she turned a startling beet color and sputtered all the worse.

Harry might have liked to learn more about the odd woman, who was continually trying- and failing- to pin her hair up and seemed so unpopular with the other paintings, but Lucius had already stopped in the middle of the rich green hallway. "This is Draco's room, and right next to it is yours." The doors were perhaps five feet from each other. "My office is just down the hall," he nodded to a door a shade or two darker than the doors that led to the bedrooms, "do not enter it without express permission. If you cannot find me there, ask a house elf and they will know where I am."

Harry couldn't imagine a situation in which he would find himself looking for his new jailer, but at least he knew where not to hide. He took the silver door handle, an old but well cared for ornament, in his hand and turned to give one last look to his new guardian.

He was gone.

'Lucius must be taking sneaky lessons from Snape,' Harry shook his head as he opened the door to his room. It was massive; easily double the size of his shared room in Griffindor Tower. The walls were champagne colored with protective runes written in cream that to muggle eyes would look like elegant wallpaper motifs. A double bed with blankets the color of rich chocolate sat proudly in the center of the rectangular room, next to it stood a stately wardrobe. At first glance it had an antique look that fit in well with the rest of the house, but it gleamed so brightly that Harry concluded it was newly made according to traditional styles. This made him wonder, was this room made for him? 'Unlikely,' he almost snorted, 'it was probably an old guest room'. Or, since Draco's room was right next door, perhaps it had been the slytherin boy's second bedroom, just like Dudley. Fate loved to do things like that.

'Well, it's not my fault!' Harry told himself, 'he can blame his parents if he's upset.' But he sat at the desk provided for him by the window and stared sadly at the back garden. He wasn't especially eager to get in a fight his first day, although it might be good to know right away how awful the Malfoys were willing to be to him. He liked to think they were still a little afraid of Dumbledore, but he couldn't be sure.

He looked around his room again. It might not be so bad to be locked up here. He could even fly a bit if they left his broom in here. A chunk of his room had been walled off, possibly to create a closet, if he needed to he might be able to hide food there… He opened the door. Ah, not a closet- a jack and jill bathroom. In the center Harry saw a gray a silver stone tub with opalescent baubles resting on the ledge. On the wall the room shared with his bedroom he noticed double sinks and two large mirrors- he hoped they weren't the talking kind. There were two other doors, one was the same color as his door and presumably opened into Draco's room, the other was painted white and Harry guessed it led to the toilet.

Harry looked from side to side. His owl hadn't arrived yet, so he couldn't write his friends. He didn't feel like roaming the house when he already felt like it's occupants were suspicious of him. Might as well take a bath?

He tugged his shirt off and, seeing the mud stains on it, blushed slightly. He wondered if maybe that was part of the reason the Ministry wizard had agreed to this- he wasn't used to seeing The-Boy-Who-Lived looking like a street kid. He kicked off his shoes, which used to be Dudley's and were even worse than the rest of his outfit. He left his clothes in a miserable little pile on the floor and climbed in the bath.

He stared glumly at the complicated looking knobs and willed them to turn on. Nothing happened. Harry started turning the knobs and handles randomly and to varying degrees until water burst from two of the three spouts. One of them seemed to only release steaming hot water and Harry had to jump out quickly, red as a sunburned piglet from the heat, and frantically twist the handles until both spouts turned off. Success.

Harry slid back into place gingerly. It was still a little hotter than he preferred, but at least it was manageable. The water relaxed his muscles and soothed his lingering anxiety away. 'This must be the best place in the whole house,' he thought, letting his hands float slightly. If he could avoid the Malfoys and stay in here all day, this arrangement might not be too bad.

"There you are."

Harry spun around. "Malfoy!" It was just llike him to ruin something so perfect.

"No need to say it with such disgust," Draco noted, "I've been looking for you."

"Well you found me _in the bathroom_, so get out!" Harry pulled his knees in and tucked his hands underneath his feet, shy but unwilling to show how embarrassed he was.

"Oh it's not such a big deal is it? We're family after all," Draco drawled and seated himself comfortably on the bathtub's step.

Harry glared, although the effect was somewhat diminished by his rosy cheeks.

"Legally," the blonde muttered.

"Get. Out."

"Fine," Draco swept to his feet as if he had already planned to do so, and it was just coincidence that Harry wanted him to leave too. "But I'm talking to you later," he called as he reentered his own room.

"Not if I jump out the window," said Harry when he was sure the other boy was out of earshot. "Or drown," he added, staring at the gorgeous pool that counted as a mere tub in this household.

Oh, he knew he would have to face Draco, and the rest of them, eventually, but he had at least a few moments before Draco got bored and demanded to see him. As far as Harry was concerned any time away from the Malfoys could be counted as gold and he was planning on hoarding as much treasure as he could. With that –somewhat- cheerful thought, Harry sank into warm water and let his mind drift to happier things

 **AN:**

 **It is possible that I might go back and rewrite this chapter if there are issues with it. Usually I write a chapter, sleep on it, and then edit with fresh eyes but what with the before mentioned drama, I figured I had better speed up the process and get back on schedule. Anyway, thanks for reading! God Bless!**

 **Also, special thanks to** **Adhana Riddle who corrected some of my mistakes and helped make this a better quality story :)**


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